#jjba reader insert

“Okay. Wow. You look terrible.”

That was the first thing Anasui said when he walked in and found you curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, your hair a mess and your nose somehow an even worse mess.

You blinked at him groggily. “Gee. Thanks, bitch.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “I’m just saying. I’ve seen prison fights look more pleasant than whatever your body is doing to you right now.”

You groaned and tried to burrow further under the blanket, already regretting texting him that you ‘might be coming down with something.’

And yet he was already setting a grocery bag on the counter, filled with tissues, pills, fancy teas that smelt of ginger and lemon, and what looked suspiciously like a tupperware container of homemade soup.

“Did you make that?” 

Your boyfriend looked offended. “Of course I made it. You think I’m going to let you eat some weak homebrand canned abomination while you’re like this? You make me sick.”

You managed a half-smile, nose still stuffy. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

He raised an eyebrow, tossing a tissue box into your lap with perfect aim before going to the microwave to heat up your chicken noodle. “There’s a lot you don’t know, baby.” He snorted. “Like how much of a sad sight you are right now. Seriously.” 

“Okay, now you’re just bullying me.”

“It’s called banter,” he said smugly, crouching beside you with a bowl of soup and a spoon already in hand. “Now, say ‘ahh.’” Perfect pink eyebrows furrowed. “No, not like that, christ! You’ve got such a dirty mind.”

You giggled.

Between spoonfuls, he tutted and commented on your appearance:

“You look extra pretty with a puffy face.”

“You’re lucky you have me to pamper your sorry ass.” 

“You’ve got something here.” He flicked your chin, before dragging his thumb over your bottom lip. “Cute.” 

He kissed your forehead. 

Despite his constant teasing, Anasui never left your side. He fluffed your pillows, tucked you in under your fluffiest blanket (paying extra attention to your sides and feet) and settled against the bedhead behind you. You dozed off on his lap, your head resting lightly against the fabric of his mini skirt. Pink, silky hair brushed gently against your skin, tickling your cheek as you lay on your side.

One hand absentmindedly rubbed your neck, whilst the other combed through the tresses of your hair. His fingertips massaged your weary scalp, paying extra attention to the spots that made you sigh and hum.

You murmured, half-asleep, “Thanks for babysitting me…”

He scoffed softly, glancing down with a crooked smile. “Someone’s gotta do it. And if I leave it to anyone else, you might die from odd socks and tinned soup.”

Then quieter:

“Besides, I kinda like taking care of you.”

Your eyes blinked open sleepily. “Even when I’m gross?”

“Especially when you’re gross. You’re sweeter when you’re soft.”

“Wow. How romantic.”

You awake with a start to another unfamiliar ceiling and for a hopeful moment you wonder if you had ended up in a hospital, and it is only when you hear the familiar drawl of your fiancé that you are plunged back into the cold reality that you woke in. 

“ Ah , you are finally awake. Don’t pretend to be asleep, I can hear your heart racing from here.” Shirtless and glowing like an apparition, Dio stands before you basking in your venomous gaze as you lifted yourself to sit up from the large, crimson bed. He keenly picks up that your eyes flicker down to his adonis belt, and for a moment your chest beats irregularly and the air tastes sweeter before the intimate scent of your fear floods his intuitive nose. The blond had momentarily forgotten that while it was widely encouraged for young men to indulge in their devilish appetites, worthy socialites such as yourself had been largely sheltered from the opposite sex. You were blossoming at the mere sight of skin, and he could tell from your guilty expression that sinful thoughts had already begun to tug at you. Put plainly, Dio had buried himself many times in the thighs of prostitutes, but that thrill paled in comparison to finally claiming the maidenhead he vied so long for. 

As you push yourself up, you notice you are still dressed in the crimson velvet gown, however the stains that you had accumulated from your roll in the dirt had now vanished, along with any smudge that hid underneath your fingernails. Hesitantly you glance over to him, feeling something coil deep in your belly dangerously akin to desire . You had always admired your betrothed, his romantic and handsome appearance and even while thrust into the plot of a penny dreadful, you could not deny the pull of many years of pining still had on you. 

“Tell me something that only he would know.” The question leaves you before you can really stop it, reverberating off the heavy curtains and the grandiose decor. Everything, from the sheets to the wallpaper, sang with Dio’s touch as he always had an affinity for grandeur. 

Dio releases a soft chuckle, joining you on the bed by seating himself on the edge. In an attempt to be brave, you do not recoil but remain rooted to the center of the white pillows, feeling the familiar prickle of terror shiver up and down your spine. Unperturbed, he rests his cold, large hand over your small, hot one and leans back on his free hand. “My mother’s name was Elizabeth.”

Without wasting a beat, you reply, “That is an easy one, any devil who is truly good at deceit would know that.”

Again, Dio smirks and it is painfully nostalgic. For a moment you remember it, his grin flashing as you walked together careful to not touch by the riverside just a few short months prior. Something deep tugs at you, and tears begin to tickle your eyelids. 

The large, beautiful man begins to lightly tap his pinky against your still appendage, leaning back to look at you once more. “ Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out to the edge of doom . I wrote that to you, in my letter dated September 27th. The first one I wrote when I returned to my studies.” Before he had even finished, you had recognized the sonnet from the letter that you had most coveted. 

“Sonnet 116.” You whisper under your breath, your unseeing eyes dropping to your joined hands as you feel the cold sweat gather in your limp palm. The moment you had received this letter, back then, you had been flushed with desire from head to toe, the line reminiscent of to have and to hold, in sickness and in health , the same vow that you had longed to give him. 

“Correct. It would seem I have pushed you to the brink of doom, and you waver in your dedication. I am beginning to doubt the seriousness of when you pledged yourself to me.” He watched your expression waver again, grasping your damp hand on his own as he guided it closer to his clothed thigh. “Is this not the same hand that held you on the day of your father’s funeral? The one that penned you letters of affection, and bended to your girlish whims? I scoured your journals, your notes and have educated myself on all your intimate desires… and you reject me at every turn.”

For a moment the fervor of passion that licks his features switches to a shade of obsessive rage, leaning his tall, radiating form so you are shaded by his shadow in the flickering candlelight, “I could bring the heavens down for you to touch, and it would never be enough for you.”

At this point your noses are close enough to touch, and you are slowly becoming drunk on his madness, his passion that seemed to envelop you in, tunneling deep to your marrow and liquifying any confidence you had previously mustered. Again, your mouth moves before your mind can stop it, “It is the same hand that killed my driver, Albert.” 

As if struck, Dio’s expression disappeared instantly before letting out loud, rancorous laughter. “Yes, you mean the one that struck me with the shovel, correct?” 

Cautiously you respond, your fingers unknowingly digging into the meat of his inner thigh, “Yes.” 

A soft groan leaves his mouth as his blond lashes flutter close, and his pink tongue briefly flicks between his parted lips. For the smallest moment his pale hand crushes your fingers, before he guides it to the bare, defined planes of his chest. At the touch of his cool skin, you feel your whole body begin to quiver with horror, and something… something else you did not want to name. 

“Yes, yes, I suppose I did do that as well. If I told you that he had been vying for a moment alone with you, would that change your opinion?” He looks at you expectantly, and all you can return is a blank look before you realize he was genuinely asking. You shake your head no. 

Dio remains quiet for a moment with his head facing the curtained windows, deep in thought as his thumb brushes slowly circles the hand that he clasped to his bare chest. “I think I enjoy your fear more, it makes you more…” At this he turns again to face you, his intention plain as day, “--- appetizing .” 

There was no chance you could dodge him as he pounced, pulling your hand close to him as Dio pressed himself into you, almost suffocating you with the cold flesh of his defined chest. The man lingers at your head, his hands buried in your loose curls as he inhales deeply and looks down at your shocked face, “I smell your desire for me, so do not deny yourself. Submit to your fate, my pet.” He purrs this in your ear, and for a breath you can feel desire, lust , completely foreign to you begin to blossom between the apex of your thighs. 

His alluring body shifts down, crimson eyes coming to meet your own and ultimately you are close enough to taste him through your slightly parted lips. Without giving it second thought, he leans down to meet your lips with his own and instinctively your eyes flutter shut. 

Every magazine, every book could not prepare you for the passion, the thick yearning that came with Dio’s touch. While you had been chastely kissed before, this felt so intimate, so new you struggled to retain your breath. Dio guided your lips with his, flicking his soft pink tongue along your inexperienced mouth before it delved in feasting and pulling the very oxygen you struggled to hold on to. Lightheaded, your head slightly sways when he rips apart from you and even in the dimly lit room you see the shine of saliva that still connects you two. It felt terrible, wonderful… fresh, and erotic as your flushed chest rapidly rose trying to regain your breath. Faintly, you feel something dribble down your chin and your hand wipes it away, seeing the shock of red color your trembling digits. Dio had cut your lip, most certainly nicked by his lengthened incisor. 

When you look up to meet his eyes once more, no longer can you see crimson shine back at you, but rather his eyes shone like dark coals in the shrouded room, completely consumed by his pupil and heady desire. Again, there is no time for you to react before he is on you, sucking the weeping wound at your lip as they only grew more swollen and wet with his ministrations. Your jaw is pried open by his tongue, and you feel as if he is trying to devour you from the inside out, tasting, licking, biting every bit of flesh exposed. Your captor, your tormentor, your personal devil now satisfied with your mouth licked his strong tongue upward, kissing and nipping at the corner of your eye now flecked with panicked tears before he dove to the meat of your neck. Pain blossomed deep in the muscle, as you felt his teeth sink below your flesh and straight to a main artery. 

It burns at first, before you feel yourself shrouded in delirious calm, as if you had been suddenly submerged in honey and begin to drown in its saccharine embrace. Your panic breathing slows, and no longer you feel tears roll down your flushed cheeks. Your hands languidly rest on his shoulders, caught between pushing Dio away or pulling him closer. Through lidded eyes you watch your lover’s muscles flex and shift under his luminous skin as he continues to feed, before he pulls back and lets his head fall back and arms splay in pure ecstasy. A deep moan leaves the blond as his own chest rises up and down with his panting, before once again he looks back down at you with pupils blown wide, “You will undo me like no other.”

When Dio kisses you again, you are pliable, open and willing to his attention as he devours your mouth. There are moments, quicker than lightning, where he treats you gently and in this small time you imagine behind closed lids that this is the same Dio that held you with his burning hands, and had written you so sweetly. Between bites, he kisses deeply, between rough pawing squeezes to your waist he trails his fingers delicate along your neck. You cannot help but be consumed, as death certainly awaited you and the small voice inside you begged to live deliciously. 

Temptation was so easy to indulge in, especially when it wore the face of your deepest, private fantasies.

While your fiancé worked his tongue against your own, his hand grasped yours and guided it along his chest, before dipping further down and brushing his toned stomach. You feel his abs shudder against the light touch, and taste his desire as he pushes deeper into your kiss. Blind with lust, it takes a moment to recognize that he had placed your palm on his manhood. A shocked gasp tears through you and you turn your mouth away from him and pull your hand away as if burned. Dio hovers over you for a moment, his expression unreadable before nuzzling his nose along the unblemished side of your neck. 

“I understand your apprehension, my pet. It is quite large.” Something tightens in your belly as you turn your head back, feeling a hot flush radiate from your core and trickle down to your toes. “No worries, I shall prepare you thoroughly. It will be my wedding gift to you, as after this night we shall enter eternal life as husband and wife.”

Before you can question his odd response Dio is ripping the red covers off of you, completely exposing the body of your gown to him before he lifts the front of the heavy skirt and slide his knee right between your exposed thighs. In your panic, you had not been given the chance to realize that Mary had not dressed you in your undergarments or small clothes, and under this opulent gown you were entirely exposed. 

What you had meant as a yelp had come out a keening whine, feeling the cloth of his slacks press against your exposed sex. Gently kneeing you, he watched your timid gasps turn to panting moans and felt his pants grow wet with your arousal. Dio could taste it just from the air, and only felt himself grow larger with desire as your hands began to desperately clutch to his flexed arms. 

This feeling, this well of ardor that poured from you was unlike anything else you experienced before. Letting out a low whine, you find yourself panting and rutting against his leg desperately chasing something as he rocked against you. It felt like a wire was being wound in your very sex, building and winding leading to something entirely unknown to you. 

Dio watched you squirm underneath him, the pinnacle of his obsessive desire unraveling just from his light touch. He felt consumed by you, the object of his tepid affection that had followed him into ascension, this very human desire that remained after everything had been burned away. He wanted to fuck you, to enter you and shape your body to his, to ruin and descerate and burn this need that licked at his loins every lonely hour before dawn. Dio wanted to consume you completely, body and soul, and bury his desire, his infatuation, deep in his chest for only him to own. 

Pulling his knee away, you whine from the loss of sensation and bite your swollen lip before he leans down once more and kisses you softly. This time he does not bite or nip, nor force his way in and for a moment you are allowed to dream of sweeter moments. It was then, in your lust stupor you were slow to notice his hand at your chest, and the sudden distinct sound of fabric ripping and the clatter of several small objects falling to the hardwood floors. You feel the cool air prick your chest, and suddenly you see your breasts exposed to him, nipples perked in the biting air of the room. 

Something between a gasp and a moan leaves you, and once again Dio pulls back to hover over your exposed body. “Y-You ruined it. Why did you tear it?” It is the first time that you are able to form words, and any attempt you make to protect your modesty he swats away with a nonchalant hand. 

Huffing out a chuckle, before smirking and straddling your waist with his large knees, Dio touches each of your breasts with a feather-like touch. He drank your reaction, watching you shiver as he ghosted over your nipples, “You worry too much about the destruction of your gown and not your own.” He speaks plainly, pure honesty paired with his handsome smirk, and suddenly you are reminded of the very reality of this situation, and the terror that still remains no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise. 

As much as it sickens him, it thrills him just as much to see the terror burn in your eyes.

Before you can respond you feel the gentle grip on your breast turn pointed as he pinches your breast. When you opened your mouth to gasp, his sharp mouth latched on the other one and began to softly flick at the tight bud with his tongue, before bringing his mouth to suck on your breast. With each change you had given a stuttering cry, finding your hands knitting into the soft blond curls in an attempt to center yourself during waves of building passion. Dio can feel your hands writhe in his hair, desperately pulling his head closer to your chest as he pulls back for just a moment, to observe, to appreciate this beautiful, submissive creature he had found. 

When he switches to your other breast, he cannot help himself but bite the soft skin and directly drink from the blue vein that circled your areola. At this, your nails dig into his scalp and it takes everything in him to detach as your head lolls back and fresh blood dribbles down your panting breasts. Your vision blurs, and you can only hear and feel him shift above you, before cold fingers press into your wet sex and steal your breath away. 

Dio, taking advantage of your open mouth once again reclaims it, and begins to expertly pull your orgasm from you by rubbing his fingers in slow circles. Any inhibitions are forgotten, and you are merely rendered a beast of flesh, a carrier of biological intention as your thighs begin to rub together chasing the building heat in your sopping core. Something animal, based in pure instinct unfurls and you find yourself returning Dio’s cool fervor. Where he bites, you bite back, as his mouth pushes against yours you push harder back, bruising your already swollen lips against your teeth. When he releases your mouth and holds your chin in his grip, he is met with the look of his own personal devil, his base instincts being pulled from him startlingly ease. Amidst the fog of your own lust, your pink tongue licked at his finger, causing his grin to only deepen as he pressed your place most intimate harder with skilled fingers.  

Words cannot describe the hot sensation that curled in your stomach and radiated through the tips of your toes and the crown of your curls. Every inch of skin felt burning, exposed to his lechrous touch as he continued to guide you right to the edge. Your moans and whines had become deaf to your own ears, fully immersed in the feeling as it pulled closer and closer, bucking your hips faster and faster into his palm. Feeling right on the precipice, you feel him pull suddenly away, pressing his wet hand into your thigh as his other releases your chin and slowly hitches your leg over his shoulder. Split open, the night air licks the drenched center of your thighs and your whole body begins to shake with anticipation. You wiggle and squirm as Dio watches amused at your futile attempts to find release, to rut yourself over any bit of friction your body could find. 

“So desperate for my touch… I truly cherish you most like this.” His words rumble against your inner thigh as he tugs your waist closer to him, completely lifting your hips from the bed. Still wiggling, you are sorely unprepared for when his tongue began to flick at your core. You cannot help but cry out, your body shivering in pleasure as it tore through every sense you prided yourself for. Any words were reduced to begging cries, this time solely begging for your release from this tortuous yet sweet burning pleasure. 

You come undone when he inserts a thick digit inside and curls it, milking your orgasm in one swift blow. He can’t stop the moan that leaves him when the blond feels your walls clasp tightly around his finger, squeezing so hard it slipped out. A rush of your release pours out and soaks his thighs, as you are lost in the throes of newfound pleasure, legs haplessly shaking. His large palm rocks against your clit, and lengthens your climax as your body limply falls to the now wet sheets. 

Still riding the wave of your release, even his touch is enough to guide you back to climax. Hands fisting the pillows and sheets, you watched with lidded, cum drunk eyes as Dio undid his pants. 

And you are struck with the fleeting feeling that perhaps you should have been more worried about your destruction. 

Even if you had seen another’s manhood in the flesh, you don’t think it would have ever prepared you for the length that he brandished. With wide, glassy eyes you watched Dio fist the thick, large member, his long fingers barely touching as he grasped his cock. The room, now thick with the smell of sex, felt suddenly suffocating as you realized that he would attempt to fit that inside you. 

Your kidnapper saw the flicker of apprehension, and simply shifted your body closer so your entrance pressed against his freezing cock. You puff out a breath in surprise, and then another in pleasure when you feel the head of his manhood brush against your most sensitive point, before sliding back and resting right at your virginal opening. 

“ Please…” You whine, cry out breathless and at this point you are sure what you are asking for. Before you can decipher your own desire, Dio spears you with his own. The sensation is enough to decenter you, knock the wind straight out of you as you feel the blonde penetrate deep inside. While foreign, it feels deeply right and never in your life had you felt complete in this way. His mouth finds yours, and not letting you a chance to adjust, the large man fucks you roughly and deeply. 

Your tears, cries of pleasure and pain, he consumes as Dio feels you grip his cock with your addicting heat. He could die here, kill to be there, and surrender most of his pride just to feel the pulse of your virginal core milk his cock to release. Anything you pour out he drinks, and Dio finds himself drunk from just your taste and touch alone, a terrible combination for a hedonistic vampire. Pupils blown and drunk chasing his own orgasm, he watches you fist the sheets and pillow, fumbling for purchase as he roughly fucks your cunt like his own personal toy. 

This was his wedding gift.

You almost pull him over the edge when you cum on his member, squeezing him so tight he pulls out and simply pants. In the flickering candlelight, Dio’s length shines with your arousal and he feels the bed soaked with your second release. 

“Jonathan… Jonathan will come tomorrow in an attempt to steal you away with his pathetic heroics. He will try to kill me once more, and in order to shed my last dregs of humanity before facing him I needed to.. No, wanted to kill this lingering affliction.” 

You were still completely preoccupied with chasing your own breath, trying to still your still shaking limbs as your climax still left you sensitive and pliant. Unable to pull away, you let Dio flip you on your belly and pull your hips back to feel the bump of his cock against your quivering cunt. You mumble incoherently, a cacophony of please, stop, no, don’t, stop, please bubbling from your bruised lips only serving as music to your terrifying paramour. His large hand come to rest on the crown of your head, lightly pushing it deeper into the mattress as he once again entered you with blinding ferocity. Peppered with your moans you can hear the lewd sound of his hard flesh slamming into the soft of your ass, accompanied by your soaking cunt producing the most depraved, wet noises. Dio has begun to loosen the tight binds of his self control, letting himself sink into the pull of pleasure that your beautiful cunt had begun to milk from him. Deep moans and gasps poured from him, and just when you think that would be the final thing you heard before he fucked you in exhaustion, his hand tighten the grip on your hair and wretches your back towards him. Releasing the burning grip on your hair, he gripped your chin and painfully bent your mouth to meet his as he continued to roughly fuck you from behind. Dio’s tongue pushed against yours, his desperation plain as he tried to dominate every part of your body. 

In your delirious and suggestible state, you arrived at your third orgasm and found yourself grateful for his strong, bruising grip as you could only resign yourself to crying and shaking through the hot pleasure that ripped through you. Fully spent, he allowed you to slump forward but wormed his now free hand between your thighs and rubs your overstimulated clitoris while his cock continued to pound away at your tired cunt. 

Despite your limited experience and your lack of vision, you can feel that this time its different. Dio had begun to fray at the edges, the punishing pace no longer rhythmic but more sporadic as he buried himself deeply in your sex. Curses, melted with words of affection, and breathy moans began to fall from his own swollen lips as he felt you once again, approach release and grip his cock with that pulsating, warm piece of heaven that laid between your legs. His nails dig into your soft waist and the one fingering your cunt moves to grip your ass, and pull apart the fat of your hips to watch your sweet pussy devour his cock. 

It’s this sight that fully unravels the brutal vampire, pleasure cascading through every pore as he felt his cock pump his seed deep in your still pulsing core. Finally spent himself, and acutely aware of the heavy smell of sex and sweat that permeated the room, he collapsed on top of you. Once again you are pressed against the bed, feeling his weeping still heavy cock press against your ass as reality begins to trickle back to your senses. Dio remains there, your terrible dark prince, resting against your body and listening to the sound of your once frantic heartbeat slow to a rhythmic, lulling pace. 

“Dio… you are crushing me.” You mumble this into the mattress, and Dio cannot help himself but chuckle and toss his fluffy blond curls to the side. 

Raising himself on his forearms, he flopped next to you and began to idly trace circles against your hipbone. His head was leaned up against the pillow, an arm propped behind his head as the picture perfection vision of relaxation. Even after he had brutally fucked you and had pulled many lewd noises from your mouth, you couldn’t help but remain bashful despite it all. 

“That is the first time you have called me by my name, pet.” Dio’s voice guides you back to the room and away from the spiral of embarrassment that had begun to form. 

“I suppose I… I finally believe that you are him, my fiancé afterall.” When you say this you cannot face him, simply curling into your own body as you try to shield yourself from the chill that had begun to settle on your exposed flesh. 

“Then this next part will bring great sadness then, my beloved.” Confused, you turn your head to meet his eyes and find him once again sliding over your body and claiming your mouth with his. Drunk with desire, and the pain of yearning for acceptance you let himself claim you once more completely.

You feel his hands return to your chest, and instead of the tender touch you expected you are met with the most unimaginably, horrible, all consuming pain you had ever felt in your small existence. His tongue still deep in your mouth, the sudden agony that rips through every sense causes you to bite down on his tongue, sending a flood of copper into your waning tastebuds. Frenzied with torment, you looked down to be met with a vision of red, purple, and shock white in the place where your breasts should be. 

While you had sucked stupidly at your dead paramour's tongue, the devil had ripped open your chest, exposing your still beating heart and lungs to the open air still perfumed with your sex. Whatever Dio sees in your eyes, it flushes him with a venomous rage that causes him to grip your chin for the last time, and spit blood from his leaking tongue into your gaping mouth. For just a moment you flounder, choking on your own blood before death claims the light of your eyes and Dio drops your limp, lifeless body to the soaked mattress.  

Now that the last of his humanity had been killed, he was promised certain glory over the dominion of humanity. And more importantly, Jonathan Joestar. 

epilogue: future games

A few days later, Dio had been defeated by hamon power wielded by the determined Joestar heir. When Speedwagon and Jonathan had searched the ruin estate for you, they had encountered the massacre that occurred on your bridal bed. This time it had been Speedwagon tearing Jonathan away from your cold corpse saying that they must flee at once, lest Dio’s surviving minions would make another bold attempt at their already weak state. 

The next morning, when they had returned to collect your remains they found the room empty, a bloodstained mattress and ruined dress the only remnants of your existence. Frustrated, Jonathan and Speedwagon had exhausted all means to try and find where your corpse had been shuttled off to, before relinquishing himself to the reality of not knowing. 

Erina, upon learning of your terrible fate, had cried for a straight week and could only comforted to a restless sleep from Jonathan’s strong arms. 

You had, however, woken to the unfamiliar ceiling before peeling your nude body from the crusted, dried mattress. The very air around you felt overstimulating, and when you open your tongue to the exposed air you can taste the blood of rats pumping vivaciously through their fat, scurrying bodies as they scuttled about the decaying mansion. 

Like a bad dream, the hole in your chest was now healed and whole however the unmarred skin remained a tint more gray. Something you would come to learn that was only noticeable when the moon was at its brightest and fullest.

Despite your heightened state, you could not sense Dio. Thrust freshly into this newfound affliction, you got the profound sense you would be stumbling through it alone as Dio… Dio felt gone. It was as if in your slumber a new set of instincts had been hardwired in, and felt the absence of your maker deep to your genetic code. 

Licking your dry lips you feel the prick of something sharp along your tongue. Turning to face the only mirror in the room, you leaned forward to admire the two shock white fangs that grew from your gums. Still nude, and giddy with newfound prospects, you began to carve away your plans to live most decadently, and take full advantage of the curse Dio had forced upon you. 

Despite it all, you would keep living. 

George exhaled and uncrossed his arms. “You two will not need to be in the study when they come by. My friend has a young child, around your age, Johnny. I expect that you two will treat them properly.” 

George didn’t wait for a response, walking away to prepare himself. Nicholas and Johnny glanced at each other, wide, eager smiles on their face as they thought about who they’d see. 

When the ‘guests’ finally arrived, Johnny momentarily forgot his manners, ignoring the man and instead glancing for the child George talked about. When his blue eyes landed on yours, something within him stirred, as if he was magnetized to you. 

He ran to you, grabbing your hands in his, and gave a toothy grin. “I’m Johnny! What’s your name?” 

Johnny could never explain why he was so drawn to you. You, likewise, never stood a chance against a fate when it came to Johnny. You two were practically attached at the hip, almost never seen without the other. 

Johnny (but mostly Nicholas) was the one who taught you how to secretly ride a horse whenever you visited the estate. You taught Johnny different plants he should avoid and what was edible after he had a mishap with poison ivy. Johnny liked getting lost in the forest with you. You liked staying up at night and pointing out different constellations with him from your book. 

“That’s a shooting star!” Johnny yelled, shooting upright and pressing his finger against the glass window. 

“What? Really?” You squinted. 

“Yeah, but you missed it, slowpoke,” he rolled his eyes as he flicked your forehead. 

“I’m not slow…” 

“And yet you’re always last when it comes to racing,” Johnny smugly pronounced. “What are we at? 1000 - 0?” 

“Ugh, you’re a jerk,” you huffed. “Now, you saw a shooting star. You gotta make a wish.” 

“Oh, right,” he said as he turned around to the face the night sky. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did it. I wished we’d be friends forever.” 

“Johnny!” You shouted. “You can’t tell me that, now it won’t come true!” 

“Don’t tell me you believe that old thing,” he snorted. “Come on, you know it’s not true.” 

“But what if it is? Now we might not be friends.” 

Johnny glanced back at you and sighed before he took his seat back on his bed next to you. “Nah. I know we will be friends forever. Even my dad thinks you’re part of the family now.”

“But how do we really know?” You asked anxiously. Johnny tapped his chin and shrugged. 

“Guess we don’t. But I’m not gonna believe a dumb superstition. We’re a team, right?” He insisted, putting his pinkie out to you. You felt yourself ease up at his confidence and wrapped your pinkie around his. 

“Yeah, a team.” He smiled proudly at your words. 

He had no reason in his mind to think of anything else. The four years you two had known each other had to have solidified your bond for life. His luck may have been strange, but you were a constant in his life. That wasn’t changing anytime soon.

You both should have known it was the beginning of end. At the age of 9, you and Johnny stood by Nicholas’s coffin. Johnny had clung to you, sobbing that it was all his fault, that he was the reason Nicholas died. If only he had just drowned Danny like George asked, if only he just listened, then Nicholas would still be there. 

He was fundamentally changed by Nicholas’s death. Why wouldn’t he be? That was his dear brother. You had grown to see Nicholas as an older brother as well, the type of good-natured sibling who made sure you and Johnny were happy. But Johnny was not Nicholas. 

You knew that. Johnny knew that. Most of all, George knew that. 

But Johnny kept continuing to go back on his horse, insisting he was fine, demanding you stop asking how he was. He was good. He would race. He would make George proud. He would honor Nicholas through his racing.

Johnny devoted so much time to racing, as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, in his mind, but you were still there, watching. You would read quietly by the small bench as Johnny lectured his horse for not jumping as high over the hurdle today. You would do your schoolwork while Johnny timed himself again and again, practicing lap after lap. Sometimes, Diego Brando would come to you and start a conversation with you. 

Johnny wouldn’t pay attention, too busy fixing the reins of his horse to care. And you, who really didn’t have much else besides him, hated seeing your best friend so hurt. So you would wait, as usual. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to make my dad proud?” Johnny mulls one evening as you both drink on the hill you two frequented as kids.

“I think you will,” you begin. “I think he’s proud of you now.” 

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” 

You pursed your lips and took another sip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. So am I.” 

It only seemed to get worse from there. Johnny would make time for you infrequently, still trying to keep up the idea of you being his ‘best friend’ to those around him. You didn’t know which you’d rather deal with at this point; his total silence towards you while hordes of girls and celebrities flocked to him, or his half-hearted attempt at clinging to the friendship you two had. Both killed you inside, and despite knowing deep down that you should cut your losses, you still stuck around. 

You stuck around when he asked for you to cover for him while he was out drinking with some friends. You stuck around when he made you do the group project by yourself because some rich governor wanted to meet him later. You stuck around when he didn’t say a word as a ‘friend’ of his made fun of you for being so clingy towards Johnny like a lost puppy. 

You knew you shouldn’t have stuck around for that. You knew you deserved better. 

But that stupid, stupid part of you that yearned for Johnny to just treat you like he did before always won out over logic. That ridiculous voice inside you said that being hurt by Johnny was better than no Johnny at all. Because Johnny was your best friend, your first friend. 

Johnny was a lot of your firsts, in fact. He was not only your first friend, but the one who first taught you to ride a horse, the one you first slept over with, the one you did your first trip with, and your first kiss when you two tried to copy what you saw a couple do as kids. Scarily enough, he was not only those things, but he was also your first love. You stupidly fell in love with your childhood best friend. Like a damn cliche, you fell for him, never recognizing that the warmth you felt for him went just beyond friends. 

But it was too late to even confess this, as he had already was on his third girlfriend of the month, never sparing you a glance beyond a ‘thanks’ for doing his work. You would be foolish enough to try, but naive you that wished for everything under the sun for just a chance with Johnny still stayed. Maybe one day he’d wake up and recognize the people that encircled him after his race didn’t care. Maybe one day he’d notice that you were still there, cheering him on for his races, even as he came in second almost every time. Maybe, maybe, maybe, that foolish wish he made under the star would come true and you’d stay friends forever. 

Like always, you sat on the bench by the training grounds of the estate, reading for the upcoming test you would have soon, that Johnny would likely want you to summarize for him and his buddies. You heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t stop reading. 

“Johnny, what do you-” 

“Me? Johnny? Please. I thought you’d know better than that by now to compare me to him,” a smug voice reproached you. You looked up in confusion before noticing the cocky stature of none other than Diego Brando. 

“Oh… Diego. Do you want me to leave?” You asked, beginning to pack up your things. Diego only ever made casual conversation with you after all these years, so you had no clue why he was walking up to you so suddenly. 

“Hm, no. I just couldn’t help but notice that Joestar boy left you alone again.” 

You rolled your eyes as Diego taunted you. “If that’s all you came here to tell me, you can leave. I don’t need to hear that from you.” 

“So sensitive. You’re beginning to resemble a cornered dog.” 

“Diego, enough. Seriously. Just leave me alone if you have nothing nice to say,” you glared. 

“If that’s what you wish. I was going to offer you a chance to go for a ride with me, but if I am so horrible that you don’t even wish to talk to me, then I’ll be on my merry way. Goodbye, maybe that Joestar will throw you a bone one day,” Diego sneered as he turned around and waved his hand. 

“Huh? Wait!” You shot up and followed after him. “Why are you offering that to me?” 

“Must I explain it to you?” “I would like you to.” 

“Hah. No,” he deadpanned. “And look at you, already following after me. It seems you can’t help but listen to those more powerful than you.” 

“I’m not doing it because-” 

“I don’t really care,” Diego replied, throwing on the saddle for his horse and fitting it properly. “Would you like to come, or not?” 

Johnny despised Diego more than anything. He’d be furious if he knew you were even talking to him. Diego sensed your hesitation, sighing dramatically and extending his hand to you. “If you want to go waiting around like a lost sheep for that boy, by all means, go ahead. I’m offering you a horseback ride, not a marriage proposal.” 

Within an instant, you threw your reservations away and gripped his hand, letting him help you onto the saddle. He was right. Johnny was busy elsewhere and this was just a simple ride around the estate. Why should you care what Johnny thought now? 

Diego snorted in amusement as your brows furrowed, but didn’t make another comment, instead, snapping the reins of the horse against it, causing the horse to begin galloping. 

For the first time in a while, you had an enjoyable evening. You simply basked in the wind as Diego expertly maneuvered the horse around. It didn’t take much before you two began talking to each other, pleasantly surprised by how Diego was talking to you when Johnny was not around. It was like seeing a whole new side to the genius jockey that he rarely ever showed before. 

Soon, though, he took the horse back to the stable and promptly helped you off. You were about to collect your bearings and go when he spoke once more to you as he was rummaging through a box of supplies for tending to his horse. 

“You should really stand up for yourself for once.” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me. Are you really going to let that boy trample you all over every day? Come on. It’s pathetic to witness. Even I felt bad seeing you like that,” he replied in an even tone. While his words were harsh, it lacked his usual mocking tone. 

“I don’t need your pity, Diego,” you stiffened, knowing he had a point. 

“I know you don’t need it. What you really need is a spine. Too bad all the money in the world can’t afford you that,” he commented. “Oh well. It’s not my place. But if you get tired of being that boy’s little mule, you can come to me. I’d be happy to have you as a cheerleader for me.” 

He looked you in the eyes this time. Instead of a haughty, egotistical smirk, it was a frank smile. You were taken aback by his casual friendliness and nodded. 

“Thank you. And thank you again for the ride. I needed it.” 

“Hmph. Don’t go around telling others that, though. Lord knows I don’t need more tabloids on my ass over this.” 

“I won’t. It’ll be our secret,” you said as you began to walk back to your original spot at the bench with a more relaxed stance. For once, there wasn’t a heavy pit in your stomach that threatened to consume you, but a gentle warmth that slowly blossomed there. 

That warmth didn’t last long when a few days after, Johnny and Diego were set to compete in another race. Of course you were going, that was always a given, and like always, Johnny gave you a ticket to let you in. Even if he was never around much, he left you the tickets in your bag, almost as if it was just expected of you. Perhaps it was, at this rate. You’ve been doing this for almost five years now. 

You sat in the bleachers next to a few other familiar faces- mostly the elite who came to socialize or discuss some business and gamble, or younger people who came to try and entice the racers into giving them more attention. You were to offer moral support and comfort Johnny when he’d get frustrated for being silver. 

It was a while before Johnny was set to race, but when he did, the crowd whispered in hushed tones if he would finally surpass Diego today. Some had bet on him, while others kept to their trusty pick of Diego. The gunshot went off, and the horses sprinted. It was close. So, so close. Johnny was more determined than ever to win this race, and it showed in the near sliver of space between him and Diego. 

Come on, Johnny, come on!

You held your breath, but as it was for so long, close was not close enough. Diego had won, but only by a measly half a second. Your heart dropped as Johnny grimaced and hurried his horse back to the stable. Silver was not good enough. Silver would never make George look at him. Not while Diego was winning race after race, surrounded in heaps of gold. 

You stood up to go meet with Johnny, hurriedly wanting to comfort him and offer more words of encouragement that would probably amount to nothing. Because nothing was enough, not until he won. Just as you were in the stables and looking for Johnny, someone clearing their throat beside you caught your attention. You turned around and saw Diego, that smug look on his face again as he held a gold trophy. 

“Not even a congratulations?” He joked. 

“Oh, sorry. Congrats, Diego. You did wonderful out there, today,” you complimented him. Even if Johnny was your friend, Diego was clearly a special prodigy at horseriding. It was no wonder he was called the ‘genius jockey’ all throughout America and Europe. You were about to continue when he grabbed your wrist. 

“That eager to see Joestar? I’m sure he can wait. I wanted to ask you something,” Diego began. 

“Hm? Go ahead.” 

“They’re organizing a party for my win soon. Tomorrow night, actually. I’m allowed one guest. Perhaps you’re interested in ditching Joestar for the evening and coming with me?” You gasped and felt your face heat up. 

“Diego, I-” 

“Are you kidding me?!” A voice yelled. You jumped at the tone but knew instantly who it was. Diego snorted and placed a hand on his hips. 

“Well now. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something, Joestar?” Diego snapped. 

“Back the hell off, Brando, I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now,” Johnny venomously spouted. He stomped over and stood between you and Diego. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Huh?” 

“What? Johnny, what are you talking about?” You replied, confused at why he was suddenly aiming his vitriol at you. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I invited you here, and now you’re planning trysts with this asshole?” 

“I didn’t even-” 

“What kind of friend are you?! You know how much I hate him! Why are you going to see him behind my back?” 

Your blood began boiling at all these accusations. You clenched your fists and jaw, trying to control yourself. “I didn’t do anything behind your back. Diego just asked me a question.” 

“Please, Diego never justs ‘asks’ questions. And don’t lie to me. I saw what you two did the other day!” 

“So what? It was just a little ride! It’s not like we did anything!” 

“So you admit you’ve been seeing him!” Johnny pointed a finger at you. Diego made his presence known again and stepped closer. 

“What, jealous, Joestar? That your ‘best friend’ finally opened their eyes and prefers me over your lousy company?” 

“Yeah, right. I don’t give a crap about you, Brando!” Diego didn’t respond, instead spitting at the floor near Johnny’s decaying shoes. 

“You talk big for second place. A second-rate jockey like you should know better than to try and insult me after that piss-poor performance you gave today.” 

“You damn-” Johnny nearly launched at Diego before you held him back. “What the hell? Let go of me!” 

“Johnny, seriously? You can’t go attacking people!” You lectured. 

“Why the hell are you defending him? Huh? You like him that much?” 

“It’s not about liking, Johnny, it’s just-” 

“Just what? Think you can suddenly do better than me? You ain’t that special!” Johnny screamed at the top of his lungs. Time froze as you saw Johnny’s eyes widen in horror at what he just told. Even Diego was taken aback for a moment before you let go of Johnny and swiftly smacked him across the face. 

“Screw you! You’re horrible!” You trembled, the years of anger and humiliation now getting to you. Johnny held his cheek with his hand as you unleashed everything you felt inside. “How can you tell me I’m a bad friend when you never acted like a friend in years?! How can you get mad at me when I wait around for you, when I embarrass myself daily thinking one day you’ll treat me like an actual person and not a damn dog?!” 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, Johnny! I should’ve done this earlier! I should’ve stopped hanging around and wishing for you to grow up! Because you never will! You’re an even bigger asshole than anyone else I’ve ever met! All you do is think you’re hot shit, when really, you’re just an insecure little brat!” 

Johnny’s face furrowed as his ego felt more bruised than before. “Really? If you think I’m such an asshole, then why don’t you just go?” 

“I will! I don’t wanna see you ever again!” 

“Oh yeah? See if you’ll get anywhere without me being the one to prop your name up! See if you’ll be anyone if I didn’t give you some attention!” 

“I hate you, Johnny! I wish we never even met!” Your voice echoed in the stables. Johnny’s hands shook in anger as he gripped the second place trophy tight. You were breathing raggedly, but all Johnny could see was Diego smirking at him, as if taunting him. Rubbing it in his face that he caused this, that your frustration was all his doing. 

In a fit of rage and guilt, Johnny flung the trophy at Diego, only barely missing the English jockey. He didn’t bother to stay in the stables any longer, instead walking away from you for good. 

“Yeah, well, have fun with him then. Go suck up to him as much as you can, because when I win, I’m not gonna let you come back,” Johnny bitterly stated, ripping off the gold pin you got him so many years ago as a good luck charm and tossing it to the dirt. 

He’ll usually be the one who stands up for you if one of the other assassins or someone else in Passione gives you a hard time for anything, even if you don’t need his intervention.

Sometimes he’ll do this really annoying thing where he steals something from you and holds it above your head so you can’t reach it. And if you get close to getting it back from him he’ll just shrink you a bit so there’s no chance for you.

When it comes to actual assassination advice, he’s not the best, since he’s been in this career for long enough that he doesn’t even think about it anymore. He just sorta. Does it. There’s nothing to think about really. With time you’ll get used to it, but that’s about all he can say.

Usually your newbie status doesn’t affect him much, but after a mission you usually struggle to relax while he wasn’t bothered at all. He can’t remember the last time he felt unnerved over taking a life, and even watching you shake and try to pull yourself together while you wash blood off your hands can’t remind him of his early days as an assassin.

Ah well.

He won’t let it bother him. It’s not like who he used to be matters anymore anyways. And eventually you’ll be like him too.

Soon it’ll be second nature to you. Then you’ll be able to take it easy like he does.

Illuso: He’s kinda like Formaggio in regards to how he’s a bit more calm and easier to talk to than most of his squad mates, but not nearly as approachable as him. So you latching onto him as a big brother figure is a bit surprising to him, but it doesn’t take long for him to really enjoy how you look up to him and seek him out for advice.

You quickly realize Illuso is the type of guy who pretends to know what he’s talking about even when he doesn’t.

Ah well.

He’s a bit annoying, and pesters you sometimes just for the sake of it, but when you’re in a mood where you can deal with him, he can actually be fun to spend time with. He’s also kinda useless when it comes to mission advice. He finds it so easy, especially since he has no qualms with fighting dirty if it meant an easy victory. He thinks you should be like him. Isn’t the whole point of assassination catching your target off-guard?

Trust him, it’s just making the most use of your stand when you use tricks and surprise attacks. La Squadra is supposed to be efficient. And if you listen to him, you’ll become a valued member of the team in no time.

That’s what he genuinely thinks, at least.

Prosciutto and Pesci: As harsh as he is, it’s hard not to look up to Prosciutto and turn to him for advice. He’s mean, definitely beyond “just being honest” BUT you can tell he’s actually well-intentioned with his severe way of speaking to you. He words it cruelly, but his advice keeps you alive. Pesci is more reasonable, with a less black and white worldview like dear Prosciutto. He’ll stand up for you if Prosciutto gets too harsh in his eyes. They both call you “Sorellina”, Prosciutto usually in a slightly condescending way, but still affectionate.

Honestly they’re both kinda softies for you, tending to cover for you when you make a mistake during a mission, and occasionally even taking care of jobs for you. But only because you’re new!! Soon you’re going to have to take care of marks on your own, they can’t always be around to save you.

That’s what Prosciutto says at least.

But Pesci won’t say no when you need help.

Melone: Weird big brother whose mere presence embarrasses you. But he’s nice to you. Weird but nice.

He’s smart, unlike Illuso he actually does seem to have at least surface level knowledge on almost anything you can think to ask about. And if you let him he’ll chat your ear off. Before you know it you’re hearing about something completely different from what you initially asked.

He’s also one to cover for you. Risotto can’t pair you two together anymore because you distract each other, and then slack off because you’re too busy goofing around and going way off track from the initial mission.

Thankfully he’s excellent mission support. You out in the field, and him supporting you from his computer.

Since you’re a little sister to him, he’s going to try and protect you to the best of his abilities. He has no one else to hang out with if something happens to you!

Ghiaccio: Even if he sees you like a little sister, you’re still subject to his unnatural rage. He is constantly pushing you to improve, after just a few weeks under his tutelage, you’ve grasped that you’d rather kill someone than deal with Ghiaccio getting upset with you for screwing up a mission. He’s efficient, powerful…and he doesn’t really slow down for you when you tag along with him on your first real mission.

He shows you how it’s done, not even considering he should ease you into the business of murder a little more gently.

At least he was pretty clear.

You certainly know what you’re Supposed to do when it’s your turn.

Honestly as long as you aren’t making any major mistakes, he’s proud of how quickly you’re becoming skilled at assassination. It doesn’t have to be precise or perfect. As long as the right person ends up dead, and you don’t get yourself injured or in trouble then who cares how you got it done.

If you do screw up an assignment though, whether you get hurt or even fail to kill the target, you will get an EARFUL from Ghiaccio. Multiple earfuls. A lot of it is because he’s just super angry at you for messing up and making more work for him, but he also cares about you. He doesn’t want you to fail…and the only way he knows how to communicate is through anger and screaming, but you’re used to it so it doesn’t even register as unusual that he’s almost always yelling at you.

Risotto Nero: (he gives big brother figure so hard honestly) As the leader of La Squadra, he naturally fills the role as your mentor, and despite initially seeming intimidating, his patience with you quickly helped you grow more comfortable around him. He remains calm even when you make a mistake, his expectations for you are reasonable…he won’t assign you a mission unless he’s certain you can handle it, and on your very first assignment he went with you to supervise. Knowing he was watching (and would step in if you really needed it) was reassuring. You wanted to impress him, make him proud…as hard as it was to take a life for the first time, Risotto’s quiet assurance and justification for the necessity of your job makes it easier.

Risotto doesn’t give out compliments excessively, so you treasure every positive remark he speaks to you. If he said you were doing well, then you were going to keep on doing what he approved of.

Though when you do have doubts about your abilities or the ethics of your job, he’s surprisingly empathetic towards your concerns. He’ll listen to your worries. And subsequently crushes those concerns with his usual stoic disposition. You will be fine. And if you really think you can’t do this, you are welcome to leave La Squadra. He won’t stop you, and he’ll even defend you should your actions be deemed traitorous by the Boss.

hello!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

it's been a while hasn't it ; v ; i hope you've been all well!!!

with the recent rumblings of the likely announcement of part 7's anime set to be revealed next year, i found myself returning to some of my jjba work and came across this piece where--after bringing up my document for it--i realized i still had some moments i wanted to express with this piece!!!

to be quite honest with you all, the last time i actively worked on this piece, i was undergoing some pretty personal matters and while i was able to manage through, i couldn't find it in myself to open up my draft for this for a considerable amount of time.

but with the years that have since passed, my fondness for this story, for mista, for jjba is still here all the same and thus, i was compelled to finally weave together the chapter you see here!!!

with this, i wish to offer you my heartfelt thanks for reading this piece and showing it love throughout all this time!!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ please enjoy!!!

----------------

Mista had found himself turning to prayer.

Eyes closed, hands clasped, crucifix gripped–he probably prayed here within this nondescript medical clinic in Naples more within the past hour than he ever did at any church while growing up.

He was desperate after all.

As a low and hoarse “amen” rumbled from his lips, his eyelids slowly lifted open before his focus immediately returned to your sleeping form upon the hospital bed. 

Letting out a soft sigh, he reached forward to clasp your hand with both of his, lifting it up to his lips for a few kisses, his crucifix pressed right in-between.

Relieved as he was to see the slow yet steady rise of your chest with each breath, he still felt haunted, cold.

He never wanted to see that sight again–your body bound by rope, blood trickling from your side, the glimmer of hope that was barely shining in your eyes upon seeing him arrive to your rescue.

The fragile “Mista” that you breathed out before you succumbed to exhaustion devastated him beyond comprehension, his entire being immediately feeling so hollow as he rushed to your side in a terrified panic.

It was as though his heart was ripped right out his chest.

But now, with your rescue successful and his vengeance delivered, he was once again by your side, refusing to leave you for even a moment.

The thought of you waking up to no one around was something he refused to even consider.

Why bother returning to your apartment if you were not present? Home was wherever you were, and if that meant this medical clinic, then so be it.

Thankfully however, he didn’t have to actually consider changing addresses anytime soon.

A flicker of movement in your fingers.

His eyes began to widen.

”Mis…ta…?”

His prayers were answered.

At once so agonizingly empty to now brimming with rapturous relief, he felt his jaw become slack as he could feel the warmth of joyous tears begin to line his eyes, his hands squeezing yours.

“Angel!”

It took a few moments, what with the harsh clinic fluorescent lighting from above, yet as your eyelids fluttered open to soon take in his astonished features, a small yet soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips, there simply weren’t enough words in the world to describe how grateful he was for this very moment.

The blessing of God’s mercy.

Were it not for your current fragile state, he would’ve scooped you right into his arms for a barrage of kisses and tight embraces.

But for now, however, it was then that the fatigued relief on your expression turned into precious confusion as your focus shifted away from his face towards the front of your body.

Just as curious, he followed your gaze.

You weakly lifted a hand.

“What are…these?”

Mista grew befuddled all the more while he watched your hand begin to reach towards your stomach.

“Babies...golden babies…” You continued, murmuring deliriously as you haphazardly began to pat along your frontside, seemingly trying to feel out something.

While in any other context, he certainly would’ve been left absolutely stupefied as to what you were talking about–especially since you were just saved from a rotten partnership between that stupid ex-Speedwagon Foundation employee and the rival famiglia he aligned himself with.

Yet Mista was at a loss of words, of breath even as he realized just what exactly you were talking about.

Or rather, of who you were talking about.

Because resting together in a cozy little pile upon your stomach were none other than the six tiny forms of Sex Pistols.

Before your hand was just about to brush upon the head of No.1, it was intercepted by him as he brought it to his mouth for a kiss, followed by another and another.

There were definitely going to be a lot of conversations between the two of you after this.

An arrow in the hands of your kidnappers?

The mere concepts of Stands themselves?

They were matters that your pretty little head shouldn’t be fretting over just yet, especially after everything that had transpired since.

For now, he would just shower you with all the affection, the reverence and the care that you deserved.

While his crucifix found its way to your hand and his lips sought out yours for a kiss–the first of many that he ached to savor–, he smiled and murmured out,

“We’ll talk about it more after I carry you home, angel.”

----------------

One day while idling around the mansion while DIO was out in the night, you came across this notebook. It had DIO's name on it.

"Huh, Hol Horse must've been snooping around," you muttered, grabbing the notebook to put it back in it's rightful place.

Once in your hands, you spotted a bit of writing and curiosity took over.

"What I need is a trustworthy friend."

You were a trustworthy friend! Would he some day show you the contents of this notebook anyway? Maybe you should stop reading...

"He must be someone who can control his desires. Someone without a lust for power, honor, wealth, or sexual gratification. He must be someone who puts the laws of God before the laws of humans."

Confusion became written on your face before there you spotted a vaguely erased name. Enrico Pucci.

Why him?!

You grew hot with rage. What could you possibly do about this?

Well... all you had to do was just get stronger than DIO. Sure, your stand, Deerstalker, was strong. However, it could never beat DIO at it's current stage.

...

You watched as DIO and Jotaro fought all across Cairo. You never lifted a finger to help, even when DIO called out to you to use Deerstalker.

"(Name)! Heal me, DIO, with Deerstalker!"

Jotaro briefly turned to look at you, his eyes slightly wide from caution. Could you really heal this monster?

Your eyes flitted to DIO's bleeding form for a moment before you smirked and shook your head.

DIO let out a screech of rage as you summoned Deerstalker, using some of its wind abilities to lift you into the air and away in the night.

You were content to just watch the battle. Once won, the Crusaders were in the mansion. However, with DIO now gone, you needed something of his.

Peering into the bedroom, you glowered. In Jotaro's hands was that notebook. He had to have read it. The faint smell of gas hit you as you saw a lighter in his hands as well. Was he going to burn everything here?!

You jumped in, pouncing onto him for it.

"Sorry, hehehe! I need this!" You giggled madly as you wrestled him for the notebook.

He pushed you off with Star Platinum with enough strength to probably shatter a rib.

"Deerstalker!" You called your stand.

(It's the Ebon Deer from HSR)

Deerstalker let out a cry and stomped a hoof, summoning roots. Some of them rose in front to protect you, while others rose to grab the notebook.

Jotaro growled low, if only Avdol were here. He could easily deal with this thing, couldn't he?

"You could've been our ally," he grunted.

He reached out with the lighter in his hand to the roots in front of you, burning them with the lighter.

Deerstalker cried out in pain and the roots retaliated by restraining, grabbing, and scratching at Jotaro's arm. Star Platinum raced for Deerstalker and the two interlocked, Deerstalker trying to push Star Platinum back with its antlers.

Finally, with a twist of your body, you snatched the notebook and leapt away. It was finally yours...

Though DIO was dead now... you could prove to him that you were stronger than Pucci. Stronger than Jotaro who defeated him. You would be the one to achieve Heaven, just as destiny always intended, right?

You.

Yes, you.

You would be the one to reach that demiseless existance.

PT.1 : PHANTOM BLOOD

Dio Brando

Talking to The Moon

PT.2 : BATTLE TENDENCY

Joseph Joestar

Totally Not

Caesar Zeppeli

HCs: HAVING A NON-BINARY S.O

"That could be us."

Tired, Are We?

Famiglia

Forever

Birthday Boy

HCs: HAVING A NON-BINARY S.O

Suzie Q

Prom Night

PT.3 : STARDUST CRUSADERS

Jotaro Kujo

Afar: Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3

Mistaken: Part 1 ☆ Part 2

Prom

HCs: HAVING A PHYSICALLY AFFECTIONATE GF

HCs: HAVING A NON-BINARY S.O

HCs: BEING HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HIS S.O

The Family: Part 1 ☆ Part 2

Noriaki Kakyoin

Sonder

Never Again

Nights Like This

HCs: HAVING A NON-BINARY S.O

Jean Pierre Polnareff

Silver Knight

One Last Time

PT.4 : DIAMOND IS UNBREAKABLE

Josuke Higashikata

Apologies

HCs: HAVING A NON-BINARY S.O

Okuyasu Nijimura

Just The Way You Are

Jotaro Kujo

Volcano

Happy Little Family

Happy Medium-Sized Family: Part 1 | Part 2

Insecurities

HCs: DEALING WITH JEALOUSY

PT. 5 : VENTO AUREO

Giorno Giovanna

One Hell of a Nightmare

HCs: CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND

PT. 6 : STONE OCEAN